


Just a Peek

by theskywasblue



Series: Inception Domestic AU [13]
Category: Inception
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:40:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theskywasblue/pseuds/theskywasblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The neighbours are getting an eyeful</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Peek

“Here comes the airplane,” Arthur coaxes, bringing the spoon towards Izzie’s mouth in a dramatic swooping motion and a little whistle. “Open up, monkey-baby.”

Izzie opens her mouth dutifully, and smacks her lips around the strained pears while Arthur scoops the dribbles from her chin. Eames wanders into the kitchen looking groggy and unfortunately stunning in his hideously worn bathrobe, plaid boxers, and bedhead. He zeroes straight in on the coffee pot, but stops halfway.

“Isn’t it trash day?” He asks, squinting at the can that Arthur overfilled with yesterdays coffee grounds about twenty minutes ago.

“Shit,” Arthur mutters, forgetting to censor himself in front of the baby. “Yeah - sorry.”

“I’ll take it out.” Eames stoops and ties the bag up, expertly. “They haven’t come ‘round yet, have they?”

“I don’t think so.”

Eames stuffs his bare feet into the runners by the door and heads out down the back walk to put the trash cans out in the alley, while Arthur’s attention goes back to Izzie, who’s burbling unhappily with her eyes on the empty spoon and equally empty baby food jar.

“Alright, hold on. I’ll get some more.”

First he makes a trip to the sink to rinse the old jar out, and it’s through the kitchen window that he spots Mrs. McLeod, across the alley, out on her deck. Arthur knows that Ann McLeod is supposed to be quitting smoking, but that she sneaks one cigarette every morning, before her husband and her sons get out of bed. She’s not smoking this morning, though - her cigarette is dangling from her lip unlit and her gaze is firmly fixed on where Eames is hauling the family’s trash bins out to the other side of the fence in his wide-open bathrobe. As Arthur watches, she even pulls her phone out of her jeans pocket and sends what Arthur is very, very positive is a picture message to someone.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!”

From her high-chair, Izzie squeals, and Arthur curses again - silently this time. “I’m coming, baby. How about sweet potatoes this time?”

Eames returns to the house a few minutes later. The first thing Arthur says as he comes through the door is, “You should do up your robe before you go outside.”

Eames hums, heading for the fridge, pulling out a carton of eggs and a jug of milk. “I’m hardly going to catch a cold, darling. It’s the middle of summer.”

“Yeah, well, the neighbours are catching an eyeful.”

Eames just laughs, like it’s nothing. “You mean Ann.”

“Yes, I mean Ann - and whoever she’s sending picture messages to.”

Eames only laughs harder. “That little minx!”

Arthur’s jaw goes so tight that his teeth start to hurt, and his hand shakes around the spoon so that Izzie has to chase her sweet potatoes, head bobbing like an excited bird.

“Arthur?” Eames says, still amused, but also wary. “You’re not - you’re not jealous, are you?”

“No,” Arthur grunts, aware that he’s not actually helping his case. 

Eames abandons the start of breakfast and moves cautiously over to stand behind Izzie’s highchair, where he can get a better look at Arthur’s face. “Really? Because you look a bit jealous to me.”

Arthur takes a long, hard breath, and lets Izzie take control of the spoon for a minute so he can stand up and look Eames in the eye. “The neighbours are ogling you.”

Eames catches Arthur by his belt loops and reels him in close; Arthur resists only a little, because he has a right to be angry, he thinks. This isn’t a peep show.. “They can ogle all they like, darling. I only have eyes for you. You know that.”

He does know that, but still - Eames is _his_ to ogle, not anyone else’s. “I’m gonna build a privacy fence,” he grumbles, as Eames presses little kisses to the corners of Arthur’s frowning mouth. “Twelve feet. Minimum.”

“I think that’s against bylaws,” Eames says, kissing him soundly as Izzie laughs and throws globs of sweet potato across the kitchen. “But your determination to protect my non-existent virtue is terribly flattering.”

-End-


End file.
